Dance across my skin
by Crazy4Moony
Summary: Remus will always remember how it happened—the teeth and claws and fur. It’ll always hunt his dreams. The fact that Sirius’ words often bring back the memories isn’t helping—he likes the boy, but what good could ever come from this? How can this be love?
1. Am I still pretty?

_Am I still pretty?_

The night it happened it had been rather cold. Remus still remembers it like it were yesterday. They still lived by the country—an old farmhouse that had been in their family for ages. Remus had loved that place. When he was just a small boy, his grandmother lived there with them. After her death it was left in their possession—and it would have once been Remus'. But then the inevitable happened.

He could still feel the fur against his arm—and the teeth in his neck.

_It was rather cold outside, a fierce wind rustling through the trees. He hadn't wandered far from home, he knew exactly where he was. The fireflies buzzed in his jar, lighting up the dark surrounding him. Turning a corner he whistled an old tune to cheer himself up—it was rather dark, and the shadows the full moon cast on the floor were frightening him a bit. Being afraid of the dark came with his age—whistling cheered him up._

They never discussed that night—it'd become taboo to even think about it. His mother went crazy after the incident, blaming herself. His father blamed her too: he hadn't been at home, but what kind of mother let her child out during the full moon? Definitely when you live in the country.

_He wasn't really afraid until he saw a shadow moving quickly and then disappearing suddenly. It wasn't until he saw it a second time that he started running—he'd learned to never look back in these situations, they only dramatized the current setting. Knowing exactly where to go and how long it would take him he ran faster—five minutes and he'd be there._

_He never made it home._

He opened his eyes when he heard the door slide, and smiled at the plump boy in the doorway.

"Is it okay if I sit here?" He asked quietly—his voice squeaked a bit, and his cheeks flushed red. "Everywhere else is full."

"No, please, sit down," waving his hand he closed his eyes again—making friends was surely nice, but he was rather sleepy. "Excuse me if I'm a bit of boring company—I didn't sleep too well last night."

"Oh, that's okay," he heard the boy laugh nervously, and was sure his cheeks had only reddened. "I understand, I myself didn't..." he continued about his own rough night, and Remus smiled—_talkative._ That was always good: those kind of people always forgave him for being silent.

_By the time he'd broke out running he could already hear loud thumps behind him on the pavement. Don'tlookbackdon'tlookback—he was scared to death, but he could not look back._

_The pain of the impact didn't really come through right away. One minute he was running, the other his face was pressed to the sidewalk. The glass jar shattered next to his face and the fireflies buzzed around. He knew his knee was scraped and his wrist was bleeding—it didn't hurt. What did hurt—like hell, and he cried out so loud someone should have heard. But they weren't stupid: going out in the full moon when a kid was crying was the most stupid thing you could do—were the claws sinking down in his sides. And then the teeth. The teeth were—_

Allen rattled his cage suddenly, and Remus' eyes shot open again. The boy had stilled when he noticed Remus' kitten—he'd locked him in the cage to be sure he didn't jump off the train.

"Cool! It's a really nice one," he got up, outstretching his hand to pet Allen's fur—named after Edgar Allen Poe—Allen purred in pleasure and Remus smiled. "I have an owl. My mum is sending it later. We only have one you see..." and he was off again.

Remus nodded, and his eyes drooped shut again. He registered every word the boy said—but his mind was somewhere else completely.

_...absolutely horrible—and that was a pain that struck him right in his heart. The beast's fur brushed against his naked arms and legs, his weight crushing him. He wished he were death—he didn't want to feel anymore, because it was horror and pain and sososo loud. He could hear it thumping against his ears—every noise, every bird, every time the teeth scraped and tore and... Tears fell to the pavement and he wondered: why haven't I passed out yet? Though he didn't realise he had fainted hours ago until his eyes opened and he registered the sun._

"Anyway, I'm Peter Pettigrew. You?"

"Remus Lupin." Remus outstretched his hand blindly and Peter chuckled softly, shaking it nonetheless.

"Pleasure to meet you—thanks for letting me sit with you."

"Anytime."

"_Mommy?" He asked the pale woman in the corner. "Am I still pretty mommy?"_

_He broke every mirror in the house._

His eyes shot open and he promised himself not to close them again. It had happened and there was no way to change the event. He should learn to leave it behind him. Otherwise he could end up ruining his future as well, and the future was everything he had _left_ now. He couldn't risk it.

Smiling once more he engaged in easy conversation with his new friend—the boy was rather pleasant, and he knew he could get used to talking to him. He reminded Remus of a friend he used to have when they still lived in the country. But... _no_. He couldn't think about it right now. _Not_ now.

Hours later the train rolled into the station, and they were still talking. So many things happened in Peter's life—he couldn't shut his mouth for a _second_, but Remus found the change extraordinary. His house was always so silent. He knew he'd love Hogwarts, even if it was just because of the _life_—the sparkling bubbling _life_ that housed there. It would be great.

They shared a boat with a redheaded girl and a raven boy—the girl was adorable and overly happy. Lilly Evans, Remus quite liked her, and hoped they'd be in the same house. She was very clever, and Remus admired such a quality in young people. He'd been the brightest of his year wherever he went—but it wasn't hard at all, when you're stuck in a school with all those stupid... _whatever_.

The boy, Severus Snape, didn't talk at all, pursing his lips tightly together. Remus couldn't say he came off as pleasant—but then again, he himself was silent most of the ride. Unless addressed to, which Peter did all the time.

He shivered somewhat uncomfortable, and wished his clothes were thicker—it was still supposed to be summer dammit! But no. He'd left his cloak in his trunk—so had Peter, so he hadn't felt too bad about it. Now he wished he'd worn it. He still looked rather schooly though, with his white shirt and the waistcoat, but it didn't do much for warming him up.

When they finally entered the castle they were sent off to a side-room first. It wasn't until one boy catcalled him that he even noticed the two raven heads standing by a large table—he was too busy trying to understand what Peter was telling him through the noise.

"Mriow!" the tallest one purred and grabbed his ass as Remus walked by—Remus' eyes widened at the indecent gesture, and he turned around, prepared to give him a piece of his mind. He was just about to shout at the slim boy when he continued: "ain't you a pretty one?" and he winked at his friend.

"_Mommy, am I still pretty?"_

Remus stumbled back in shock, and the boy turned to him in surprise as he nearly tripped over someone. He was about to run off when Peter's hand stopped him.

"Remus? What's wrong?" He paled and his eyes shot to the tall boy again—he looked afraid, as if he'd just killed a man. Remus leaned on his knees and started breathing hard—_control yourself_, but... no one had _ever_ called him pretty and...

"_Am I still pretty, mommy?"_

It wasn't good because he could feel tears well up in his eyes.

"Remus?"

"_Mommy?"_

"Come on," Peter grabbed him and glared at the two boys. "Don't worry about them, come with me."

He nodded—no one called him pretty even if it was just for kidding. He _hadn't_ been called pretty since...

"_Am I still pretty?"_

—and allowed Peter to pull him over to the door. His breathing gradually evened out, but he made it a point not to look at the two ravens. They must think he was a freak—but it was _his_ fault. That punk shouldn't have touched his ass and he shouldn't have...

"_Am I still pretty mommy?"_

"Alright, we're ready for you now." Professor McGonagall opened the door and Remus closed his eyes, straightening his back.

They passed the luggage in the hallway and went to the other room. He noticed one empty cage and knew it was Allen's. Allen always followed him—and indeed, there was a black kitten being held by an old grey man. He knew the man was Dumbledore, and studied the room before looking back at Allen.

"It seems that someone has lost his pet." The man said, and all the other students looked at the new arrivals.

Peter whispered something but Remus had already broken loose from the group, and was walking to the professor.

"I'm sorry sir, it's mine," he bowed slightly, and Allen jumped out of the old man's arms, flattering his head against Remus' leg. "Shh, 's okay," he petted the head softly—he'd found Allen a couple of days after the incident. But he never grew—he'd been a kitten for as long as Remus could remember, and he found it quite remarkable. He'd been hurt, and Remus had found him in a box, pushed away from the world itself. There was a patch on his head where no fur grew, because of a large scar. Remus could only imagine what his former owners had done to him, and that's why he kept Allen close. They were both once...

"_Am I still pretty?"_

The kitten had gotten quite dependant on him. "I'm here," he lifted the small animal and it licked his cheek immediately, flattering his chest. "I'm sorry." He looked at the professor again, and the man smiled.

"No problem mister Lupin," his eyes glittered and Allen meowed softly. "He's very sweet—it wouldn't do to lose him."

"I won't again sir." He bowed a last time and went back to the group, ignoring the older student's stares—Allen happily nestled against his chest.

Waiting to be sorted was unexplainable scary. The boy that had sexually harassed him—no that's _not_ over top!—earlier was one of the first to go up. _Sirius Black_, and the whole room gasped. He'd heard of the boy, apparently his family was a bit vicious. They all said Mister Black had malfunctioned—_how_, he didn't know. But of course, his whole family existed out of Slytherins, and he had long since decided that that just wasn't his thing. And indeed—the hat cried "Gryffindor!" and everyone was too shocked to clap. Only Remus and the boy's friend were nice enough to do so—and soon everyone followed. Sirius winked at his friend, and stared at Remus for a second. Remus looked away immediately, and could see him going to Gryffindor table from the corner of his eye.

When it was his turn to be sorted he gave Allen to Peter for a second, before sitting down on the crutch. He wasn't very nervous—he was actually quite positive he'd be a Ravenclaw. He wasn't brave, or sneaky or any of that. _Smart_ was his thing—he said it over and over again, but then the hat started whispering and he was reminded of those words so long ago.

"_A brave boy, you are," the doctor told him—he was shaking and his mother never looked at him and was he still pretty? But he'd broken all the mirrors and didn't want to know. "A lot of people would've given up by now. You're the bravest one I know, you keep going!"_

"_Yes, you're my brave little brother," his nephew said—neither of them had brothers, but their bound was extraordinary, and like that of brothers. "I'm so proud of you." And when he said it he looked Remus in the eye. It made him believe maybe he really was a..._

"Gryffindor!" The hat called out and he was so startled he nearly fell from his chair. McGonagall took the hat away but he protested.

"That can't be," he frowned at the lifeless fabric in her hand, and she tipped up her eyebrow in question. "I'm not brave at all."

She just smiled and pushed him towards the table. He blinked, taking Allen again—he purred softly, and Peter congratulated him. Then stumbled towards the long table of red and golden. He was engulfed in hugs and people called for him and he felt _good_.

Only the Black boy didn't cheer or call for him—and that was _okay_ because he'd said Remus was...

"_...pretty mommy?"_

Peter joined them soon, and Sirius' pal James Potter got into Gryffindor too. Remus was glad for him—he looked incredibly proud of himself, so Remus figured Gryffindor would be just right for him. They had dinner after everyone had been sorted, and quickly engaged in conversation with the other first years—Lilly had been sorted into Gryffindor too, though her friend was now a Slytherin. She told Remus she liked him—and it _nearly_ made him blush. She didn't know much of him, but she claimed to admire his silent demeanour—and the wits she was sure he possessed. He rolled his eyes at her and started a conversation about something else, because he noticed the glare James sent him—apparently she was taken.

--

"Hey, erm, Remus?"

Remus vaguely noticed someone calling him, and he closed the book. Looking up he recognised the black hair and grey eyes. The Black boy.

"Yes?" He tried to be polite—even if he was still startled deep down.

The kid took it as a good sign and flopped down on the couch next to him. He carelessly put his feet on the table and wrapped an arm around Remus' shoulder.

"I'm sorry if I startled you earlier mate," he fell back into his normal self, all trails of neatness and manners gone. He gave a sly grin and his accent ringed up again. "I didn't mean anything by it—just a tease you know. If there's a nice ass wiggling by I 'ave to touch it. It's this unwritten rule."

"Mmm," Remus gave a nod. Then stood, shrugging the hand off. "You suck at apologies. Don't touch my ass again and spare me the lousy excuses, _mate_."

He gave Sirius an earnest smile and went up the stairs—they were supposed to be heading for bed anyways. Too bad he missed out on Sirius' dumbfounded look. He would've _loved_ it.

--

By the time he was well under his blankets, continuing his novel, the others were still dressing. Allen was playing with Sirius' shirt, and the other boy, James, had come to apologise too. He was even worse then Sirius, but at least he didn't _flirt_ with Remus while doing it. Sirius flashed him a grin whenever he could but Remus ignored him. If he thought about him right now his mind would wander again.

"Allen," the kitten stopped playing with Sirius' clothes, and hopped off the bed, jumping on Remus'—he slept opposed to Sirius, and next to Peter. "Come here sweety." He cooed and the kit waggled over, flattering itself against Remus' chest.

"Man," Sirius sighed fake-wistfully and James grinned, lying down on his own bed. "That's one lucky kitten darnit. Would you hold me so close were _I_ a cat?" he teased and Remus rolled his eyes.

"Definitely _not_. You wouldn't be half as beautiful as Allen."

"Beautiful?" James and Sirius exchanged a look. "It's a nice cat Remus, but it's kinda scarred and..." before James could finish his sentence Remus snapped.

_Even without the mirrors in the house he could still feel them. At night when his hand drifted down his side. Skin-deep scars—pink against his skin and he could feel them, like gaps in his body. He should be happy his hair was rather long, or the scar in his neck would've been hard to hide. They were hideous, but no one had the right to point it out. Even with his scars, he was—just like Allen—better then they would ever be. With their prejudice. He just wasn't..._

"Scars don't make you ugly, stupid sod!" he snarled, and got up to close his curtains. "If you're as rotten to think so, it makes you half the man you think you are!"

He left his newfound friends in shock—James frowned slightly. He couldn't understand what that had just been about. He hadn't _meant_ anything by it, it had just slipped his mouth.

Remus closed his eyes—drowning out the sounds of his friends' whispers—and nuzzled against Allen's black fur.

"_Mommy, am I still pretty?"_

"Am I still pretty Allen?" he whispered softly.

As reply he got a lick to his nose, and soft fur against his face, lovingly cuddling closer.

_Am I really pretty to you?_


	2. Don’t scratch, or it’ll scar

_Don't scratch, or it'll scar._

**AN: **

**To charlotte: Thanks for the reviews! I can't believe I spelled Edgar Allan Poe wrong :o I love his short stories and poems! Strange though, because in the second chapter I spell it with an 'a' :s Darn, I'm weird. Oh, and about the Lily with double L: in Dutch it's written with two L's, and even though I read the books in English most of the time, I prefer spelling it with two L's. If that makes any sense—it just seems more natural to me. I'll try to get a hang of writing it with one L, but that seems so foreign to me. I'll try, but don't shoot me if the two L's sneak in suddenly :)**

**Also I'd like to remind all of you, my spelling's British English—if I write words with an 's' instead of a 'z', or 'ou' instead of 'o', that's because I write in British English, please take that into consideration before you correct my errors.**

Two weeks later Remus thought he would die of the sheer rush of _adrenaline_ this world gave him—he'd never felt so good anywhere, as when he was with his friends. The four of them had declared Ultimate Friendship, and Remus revelled at how _easy_ it was to like them. How easy it was to just totally _love_ them and _get attached_ to them and want to _spend time_ with them—he didn't even _care_ about how stupid it could be to create bounds this strong. He didn't _care_. They were amazing.

They were _so_ great they pushed upon the fact why Remus was so sensitive when it came to appearances—Sirius was quite smart—but that they stopped as soon as they noticed pushing him into telling wasn't a good idea. They were patient and he loved it. He _loved_ it.

_The soft hands of the man trail across his sides—he feels them burning away his skin and whimpers in protest. The shiver is ignored and the man carefully continues wrapping up his torso. Every time his hands stroke near his sides Remus' being shivers and a cold sweat breaks out. It hurts too much. Too much._

He blinked twice when he realised James was calling for him—he recognised that voice everywhere.

"Remus! Wait up for me!" Remus paused and turned to the boy.

He'd been on his way to the library to do some homework, since the common room was usually too crowded. Allan was tripling up ahead, and sniffed someone's leg. James caught up with him and grinned.

"I thought I'd come join you—I have some homework left too," he heaved up his book-bag slightly and they continued walking. "Hope you don't mind?"

"Definitely not—this way I won't be alone." It wasn't until the man who'd Allan been sniffing bent through his legs that Remus noticed him.

"I'm sorry," he went over quickly, smiling at the man—it was a slender blonde, and he'd apparently been talking to Severus Snape. The raven boy stood somewhat uneasily behind him as the older one stroked the soft fur. "Was he bothering you?"

"Oh no, he's a sweet thing," he smirked and Remus noticed he was a Slytherin, _nice Slytherins?_ That definitely was a first. "What's he named?"

"Allan," at the sound of his name the kit looked up and tripled over to Remus, flattering his head against his leg in a cry for attention. "Hey sweety," he picked Allan up and he purred contently, hooking his claws in Remus' sweater so he wouldn't fall. "Well, we'd better be going—I still have tons of homework."

The blonde smiled but Remus realised he was staring at a point behind him. Turning around he saw James blush slightly and lower his gaze—James, _blushing_?

He grinned and pulled at James' sleeve to get him to follow. When they'd turned the corner and were well out of eyesight, Remus stopped walking and whispered: "did that guy just make you blush?"

James immediately went into defensive mode, continuing the walk.

"Of course not!" he replied hotly, glaring at the brunette. "I don't even know him—personally. I just know his name and my parents know his parents, but they don't get along and..." he trailed off and started blushing again.

Maybe Lily wasn't taken after all—though Remus had the feeling he shouldn't try to flirt with the tall blonde.

_When the man touches his neck Remus yelps and curls himself up. His father's in the corner, staring at him with dead eyes—he tries to avoid the look, but can't. The eyes follow his movements as the man tries again, this time succeeding. He whispers nice words so Remus would relax and wraps up his neck. It are bandages he always wears._

"What are those for, Remmi?" Sirius asked bluntly, pointing at the white fabric around his neck—he'd found James and Remus in the library and decided to interrupt their quiet study time.

Remus had gotten used to Sirius' blunt questions. None of his friends had ever asked about the bandages though—they were afraid to, after Remus snapped at James for mentioning Allan's scars.

Sirius had, after their first two days, stopped flirting—girls were more fun to him. He did make it a point to call Remus 'Remmi', as a permanent reminder of their first two days that had been spent exchanging dirty puns and Sirius giving Remus come-hither-looks. Remus didn't mind at all—he found it humorous how Sirius had no problem with pretending to be into him, and it had gotten them into some funny situations with the professors. Sometimes Sirius still used pet-names too, and the really funny thing was that he'd growl at anyone that dared to call Remus anything varying from 'Remmi' to 'Love'. Which they didn't do often, but some girls used to—until they met the fierce raven that was Sirius Black and he'd vowed to eat up their make-up if they dared call _his_ Remus that again. The boy was a menace, but a good menace—Remus just loved them all too much to care.

"Not your place Sirius." Remus warned because he didn't want to get into it now—

_The man said it would take time for the wounds to heal—they would, definitely, but he'd have to wear the bandages for a while. His father kept on looking at him with his dead eyes and Remus closed his own. Even that gaze on the wounds hurt—he could feel it pressing into his sides, but in reality, there was nothing there and he was all alone in the room._

—and he really loved _Hogwarts_. It were just the questions that drove him mad.

Sirius nodded, but when Remus glanced up once he noticed that his stormy eyes were still fixed on his neck. The look didn't hurt and Remus heard himself sighing in relief—Sirius' eyes shot up to meet his, and when their eyes locked he smiled, then returned to his paper.

--

James was quirky—Remus learned that over the weeks. There were odd habits James wished to keep, and when Remus would catch him on them, it would always make him laugh.

Well into their third week Remus noticed James only ate the green Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans—he would sort the beans first, putting them in long rows judging by the colour. Then he'd put them all back in the box—except for the green ones. Those he'd carefully wrap in a handkerchief and continue to eat through the day. The other ones he'd give to Sirius and Peter and Remus—in return Remus made it a point to sort out his own green beans, and when he handed them to James he just smiled knowingly. James blushed and thanked him, munching away on all sorts of green. From olive to grass green and fluorescent.

Peter had strange little habits too. Remus got over it soon though—they lived in the same room, slept there, breathed there, Peter was his friend. Sometimes he would wake up and find his friend curled at the end of his bed—Peter didn't sleep easily. He tossed and turned in his bed at night, and in the morning he always ended up by the foot-end. Remus was always up first, and he went over to the boy's bed and covered him with his blankets—when Peter woke up he knew who'd done it, and smiled brightly all day. Remus couldn't blame him. Being taken care of felt good.

_His dad's eyes were dead. But he moved over to sit next to Remus and he came off as alive—Remus just knew better. The man with his hands and bandages had left and Remus was all alone. His father didn't look at him. Looked at the door and to the floor and did it matter because his eyes were dead. He paused when he saw Remus' hand flit to his waist, and held the hand in midair—tight, and it hurt, but Remus didn't make a noise._

"_Don't scratch," his father warned, looking through the window. "It'll scar."_

_But they scared anyway._

Looking up he once more realised that Sirius was probably the strangest of all. The boy had just emerged from a broom closet, yelling at one of his cousins—the Slytherin was three years his senior and much bigger, yet Sirius made it a point to yell straight at him, insulting him for all he was worth.

Remus never understood why. He did it a lot—they'd been here almost four weeks, and Sirius was always found at some point, fighting with his robust cousin. Remus interfered before it got out of hand—he pulled Sirius away, hands tight around his arm. Sirius kept yelling, and his cousin glared. The last time they'd been fighting Sirius had earned himself some bruises, and Remus hated to see him hurt. They'd asked him then—_Sirius, why do you keep fighting your cousin?_

"I'm making this bike," Sirius explained—thirteen and an engineer? Leave it to Sirius to accomplish such a thing. "I really need the money—really badly. For all the parts."

He didn't say anything else and they shared a look. Maybe this was one of those things that shouldn't be pressed upon, so they didn't.

"You have to stop doing that," Remus smiled, shaken from his thoughts about quirks. "He'll hit you again and..."

Someone tapped Remus on the shoulder, and he paused, turning around. Before he knew it, a fist hit his cheek and then his stomach—so hard that he could taste blood inside his mouth.

"Get your filthy hands off Sirius!" he was surprised to see the raven's cousin—_what on earth is his problem?_—but couldn't focus and fell to the floor.

Sirius was attacking in mere seconds, casting any spell he could think off, shouting all the while—and now, he may have been so much smaller, he was still better at charms. His cousin whimpered and fled—perhaps a Sirius Black that went into full-devil-mode was something even the big guy couldn't handle.

Remus frowned to himself again—he couldn't understand what he'd done to deserve this. He hadn't insulted the boy or anything. He'd only pulled away his friend. He really hadn't meant any harm. Sirius dropped to his side, helping Remus get up. _But then again_, he thought, _I never deserved_...

"_Don't scratch Remus," dead eyes and breathing body but it was wrong. "It'll scar."_

"Remus? You okay?" Sirius took his hand as he wobbled slightly. "I'm sorry mate—he's a bit mad, he is."

"It's fine," Remus tried to smile—he knew he shouldn't, but he still spit to the floor—his salvia was red. "I came to look for you, James and Peter are waiting in the common room and..."

He suddenly realised that Sirius was still holding his hand. And that he looked really concerned.

"Maybe we should go to the infirmary instead," Sirius said, voice full of sorrow. "I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have gotten you into it and it's all my fault. Please go to the infirmary with me?"

"I..." their eyes locked and immediately flashed away—hesitant to look him in the eye again, Remus nodded. "If it'll make you feel better."

"It will." Sirius guided him to the end of the hall, down a set of stairs.

Remus gave an absent nod—he was really blessed with friends like Sirius and James and Peter. Even though he'd just been kicked by one of their cousins. He promised himself to ask about it later—Sirius had to tell him, he needed to know. If the boy was being hurt in any way, he wanted to know. He had a faint idea that maybe the Slytherins were blackmailing him—every now and then there were some Slytherins that grinned when he passed, or catcalled. It was weird.

His free hand went up to touch his cheek—he could feel the blood trickling down and a crust forming—when Sirius absentmindedly prevented him from doing so.

"Don't scratch Remmi," he said softly. "It'll scar."

Remus wanted to stop walking and stare at him in shock—instead he closed his eyes and obeyed. He'd already freaked Sirius out enough, but he kept on saying such provocative words, without even knowing—why was it that Sirius made him feel so right, even though all the words he chose were so wrong?

"_It'll scar." Hand gripping his own painfully._

But Sirius' touch was soft as he smiled and tugged Remus with him to the infirmary. The nurse put a Band-Aid to his cheek and said he'd be just fine—like Remus had known. He didn't really care, even though the Band-Aid was a bit silly, as long as it made Sirius feel less guilty.

--

"So I figured we should do it tomorrow instead of—"

"I can't tomorrow," Remus interrupted without looking away from his novel. James frowned at him in question, and the other two turned to him. "My mom's sick—I'm going home for a couple of days."

"That's too bad—what happened?" James asked, going from surprised to sympathetic.

"Some kinda weird illness," Remus lied, turning his page. "My dad has to work and can't take care of her."

"Well, I hope she gets well soon." Sirius patted his arm, but Remus didn't look up—if he looked up Sirius would know he was lying.

Because he's just one of those people that knows—he can read it in Remus' eyes, because Remus can keep his defences up, just not when with _Sirius_.

--

When he came back he was hurt—not physically, but mentally he was worn out. He'd never had to lie to people he liked this much before. Only one month had passed, really, just barely, but he'd spent every day of that month with these people. He'd grown extremely fond of them in just a small amount of time and he knew maybe getting attached to them wasn't a good idea but it was impossible not to. He couldn't possibly not love them—they were his best friends. They made him feel _alive_, and that was more than he'd had in a long time.

"What happened to your arm?" Sirius asked, looking over at him. They were the only ones left in the common room—everyone had gone to bed ages ago. James was asleep, curled up in front of the fire, and Peter was drooling on the armrest of his chair. Remus was reading and Sirius had been staring at him for a while now—Remus had just pretended not to know.

"Huh?" he looked down—there was a nasty gash in his arm, from his transformation a couple of days ago. "Oh, I fell out of a tree at home."

It was already healing, a crust forming on his arm, and he absentmindedly felt against it, poking it curiously.

"Remmi, don't scratch," Sirius scolded, and he prodded Remus' knee with his socked foot. "It'll scar."

"_Don't scratch." The dead eyes and the painful hands never leaving—always there while his mother whimpered in a corner. He was trying to be normal but he couldn't be because his eyes were dead and his body was living—and they seemed more hurt than he'd been, but it wasn't true. He was just braver than they were._

"_My brave brother." His nephew had said—they were both only children, but the relationship they had was that of brothers. They cared for each other dearly—and he was always there when Remus was hurt. Even now that he was so..._

"_It'll scar."_

"Right," Remus smiled. "I keep on forgetting that."

Sirius tipped his head in question but didn't comment on it, instead leaned down on the couch, folding his arms behind his head.

"Remus?" He suddenly asked, and Remus grunted to let him know he was listening. "Did you ever sleep with someone?"

"Hmm?" Remus frowned—_sleep with someone?_ "What do you mean?"

"Sex—I'm asking you if you fucked someone." Sirius tipped his head to the side, staring into the fire—Remus could see the light reflect in his dark eyes.

"I'm thirteen—I've never even had a proper girlfriend." He shrugged—that was such a typical Sirius-question, he didn't even know why he was surprised the boy'd asked.

His friend didn't laugh though, and Remus frowned again.

"Have you, Sirius?" He asked soft and serious—he wondered if perhaps something had happened to Sirius while he was gone, but _no_. He was still the same.

"Not _really_..." Sirius hesitated.

"What?" Remus' mouth opened in shock—he couldn't have, he was thirteen and...

"I really want to build that bike." Sirius said in his isn't-it-obvious-tone.

"I..." Remus sighed, looking down at the cover of his book. "I have no idea what that means Sirius."

"I really don't know what those bandages are for Remus." Sirius said in monotone—and just like that they agreed to not talk about it anymore. Though Remus wanted to know what Sirius meant and Sirius wanted to see what was beneath those bandages—it didn't matter. Some things were just better left unsaid.

--

That night when Remus fell asleep it wasn't easy—it took hours for him to lull off. Sirius had gone off when they went to the dorm, claiming he needed some papers he'd left ages ago in the library and that it was really urgent. When he came back, Remus pretended to sleep. He could see that Sirius had earned himself a new bruise as the boy dressed in silence. And perhaps Remus should have pressed upon the matter, perhaps Remus should have asked him what was wrong. But he didn't.

Allan flattered himself against his chest, meowing softly.

_Do you really care for me?_

**AN: I apologise to the first few reviewers: I had accidentally selected 'complete' instead of 'incomplete'. As it is: this is a chaptered story, my somewhat darker take on the Marauders era. But don't fret, I said '**_**somewhat**_** darker', so don't expect gruesome things or anything. I know how to behave—and if you're nice I might even give it a happy ending!...**


	3. Don't you lie to me

_Don't you lie to me._

**IMPORTANT: I've re-updated this because I had to correct a single word. People who have already read this chapter and were hoping on a new one, I'm sorry, but it's the same thing as it was before, with one different word. The next one will be up asap, I've almost completed it.**

**AN: okay, I've noticed I've apparently seriously messed up their ages. They're supposed to be eleven in first year, not thirteen... but let's pretend they were twelve in first year, and therefore, are now thirteen ^-^ I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, I always get these ages wrong.**

**Also, first year passes quickly, in this chapter second starts. Second and third will probably also pass rather quickly, because more exciting things happen as they climb up the ladder ^-^**

Every single month Remus felt worse. The bond with his friends continued to grow stronger with every passing day and every lie he told them was like a knife through his heart. He knew it was necessary, he couldn't possibly tell them about his lycanthropy—but they were bound to find out sooner or later. They were quite bright, and it was only a matter of time before they realised his absentees fell together with a full moon every single month. He feared the day that they would find out the real reason, that they would realise there was no such thing like a sick mother or aunt, or a funeral or an unnamed decease. Because then he would have to tell them the truth, and then he would be the one that had lied to them all those times.

He did not know what was scarier, the prospect of them finding out he was a werewolf, or them finding out he had lied to them.

And the truth might be desired by most—it was never Remus' best option.

"_Remus, you can always tell me if you need anything," his nephew had said—his ally, his brother—and Remus had still believed him, "anything at all."_

_He has no one else now, no one but him. He has dead eyes and a woman that cannot look at him and he has ugly and dirty and filthy, but he has him and he is good._

_Remus trusts him when he says this, and he feels like he can tell him whatever, that he'll understand what he's going through. But deep inside he wonders, can anyone ever?_

_But he feigns ignorance and pretends not to hurt. Because when his nephew is there, the world is bright and shiny, and there are no dark figures sitting around his bed, there are no burns pressed into his skin, there is no pain. There is only the bright light that his nephew seems to radiate, and it is so good to have this quiet. No matter what the cost, Remus thinks, it will be worth it._

_In the end, he turned out to be quite wrong about the matter._

"This is gonna be so wicked," James whispered as he bounced up and down his chair. He had missed James more than words could ever say—he had missed all of them, so much—so instead he just grinned. They clasped at the arrival of the new students, their second year on the verge of its virginal start, "We're not the newbies anymore! Hello second year!"

The brunette nodded in agreement—their first year had passed in a minute, though summer had drained out for too long. He hadn't realised how much he really needed his friends until they were gone. Being home was so... not-right, it scared him. Because being here felt more like home then being with his parents ever did. Even though he was partly relieved, since the fear of his fellow Marauders discovering his secret weighed on him like a ton of bricks, it didn't feel good to be away from Hogwarts for so long. Writing letters could not force him to relive the emotions they brought upon him, each time he roamed around in his backyard he would be reminded of the roaming he did with his friends and as they exchanged the initial, premature copy of what would grow to be their map of the school, he would press it into his chest, imagining that he was back in the common room, back with his friends, instead of stuck right there.

To be quite frank, the fear of his friends finding out about his secret was nothing compared to being _stuck_.

* * *

Remus had found himself a nice, comfortable place by the fire, finishing up on his essay, when Allan hopped onto his lap, meowing softly. It was rather late, and James and Peter had already gone to bed. Sirius was nowhere to be found, and Remus had decided to catch up on some homework. He was the only one left, and even though he had promised himself not to be nosy, he actually wanted to ask Sirius about his cousin. It had bugged him all of last year, he had mulled it over during the holidays and he had decided that he could at least _try_ to find out what was wrong.

Allan purred and made himself at home, nestling into his lap and t-shirt, seeking warmth. Remus absentmindedly stroked the kitten's fur, when the portrait hole suddenly opened, allowing entrance to one Sirius Orion Black.

"Remus!" his hair was wet and his shirt was half-undone, making Remus wonder what he'd been up to. The dark curls were even more vibrant than usual, the rain giving them an extra swing around the tips, points turned upwards. With his shirt also damp, it clung to his figure tightly, and he looked even more dishevelled than usual, beaming: "I was looking for you!"

It was so typical that at a time like this, while Remus had been thinking of him, not a minute ago, he showed up. He seated himself next to his friend, casually throwing his arm around the brunette's shoulder, giving Allan a quick stroke in greeting. It would have been uncomfortable; Sirius' wet shirt brushing against Remus' crisp tee, but the brunette could not find it in himself to care.

"You've been holdin' out on me mate!" he chuckled, but Remus could tell by the look in his eye that he wasn't smiling on the inside, "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"Tell you what?" Remus asked curiously, pretending his stomach wasn't churning—acting as if his insides weren't turning upside down. _What does he know?_

"You didn't tell me about Macy!" Sirius grinned, but not the infamous Sirius Black grin—this was the poser-Sirius-Black grin. The one pretending to be the Sirius Black grin but falling short. It was so obviously fake, it hurt Remus to even think of why his friend was feigning happiness.

"Who's Macy?" Remus queried, finding that their conversation was becoming odder and odder by the minute – he was relieved though, that Sirius did not seem to know about his lycanthropy—at least now, it felt as if he could breathe again.

"Who's Macy 'e asks," Sirius cackled cruelly—usually, Sirius' laugh made Remus want to smile along, but now it was vicious, and it made Remus frown, "the fourth grade Huffelpuff you're dating o' course!"

At this, Remus spontaneously dropped his quill in shock, mouth falling open in shock.

"W-why would I want to date a fourth grader!" he sputtered, insulted, "And a Huffelpuff! I don't even know any Macys!"

"Don't you lie to me Remus!" Sirius' outburst came suddenly and he banged his fist into the table so hard, Remus' ink bottle shook and spilled over—and just like that, he was in that house again and...

_His nephew turned out to be just as bad as the rest of him—and when he yelled at Remus, hitting his cheek with the flat of his hand, demanding that Remus didn't lie to him, Remus realised that maybe all good was bad inside. It just pretended not to be._

_That idea had never occurred to him before—he had decided a long time ago, that he would not be one of those people easily fooled. He had been fooled once, and refused to be done for a second time. He would survive, you see, he would make it._

_Evil would have no disguise Remus could not see through._

_The fact that he had actually believed that himself, was perhaps his biggest mistake of all._

_Escaping from the dark had been easy, perhaps. His nephew had been his light, and now he had no place left to hide, no shelter of security, nothing. He wanted to flee the house but found that he could not move, the throbbing in his cheek so much less painful than the ache in his heart._

Anger gleamed in the black of Sirius' eyes—where he had been chipper and willing to pretend before, he seemed resolute now, done with the slow approach. And really, Remus loved the boy, but he was positive that this was the first time he saw Sirius how he really was: unlimited, groundless and undefined.

Slytherins often said he was a fallen angel. Maybe he really was.

"Sirius, please," Remus tried not showing his fear—he didn't think Sirius would hurt him, but he needed to be sure—unwilling to give into the anxiety taking hold of his heart, "I would tell you, you're my best friend!"

His words seemed to have a calming effect on Sirius, and the raven settled back down again, though his eyes remained an unnervingly dark shade of black.

"Her friends said—" he began, almost apologetically—but determined to learn the truth no matter what.

"I am _your_ friend," Remus pressed, "and I'm telling you now, that I don't know any Macys, and, considering you're my best mate, if I'd ever date a girl, you'd be the first to know."

They sat in complete silence for a moment—Remus debated cleaning up the mess of ink and soggy parchment, but decided against it—until Sirius stood abruptly. It was somewhere near awkward, now that suddenly Sirius was back to his old self.

"I believe you," he said, and he sounded almost contemplatively, as if still trying to measure Remus' intentions. It almost seemed as if Sirius was trying to decide whether or not Remus was playing a sort of game with him, toying with his emotions—and Remus felt sorry that he'd ever even made Sirius doubt—still distrustful. Then Sirius offered him a hand, and the awkward moment was gone, his radiant smile back on his face, with his eyes shining in mirth, "come with me. I want to show you something."

Remus doubted for a moment. He wasn't sure it would really be proper to go out this late, but when he saw the stare Sirius was giving him, he knew resisting would be futile. The boy just knew how to push all his buttons right.

He took the hand offered to him, and set Allan down on the sofa—the kitten mewed in protest, but Remus scratched him behind his ears to silence him—following Sirius out of the common room. The places where their hands touched tingled oddly, and Remus scolded at himself for acting like such a hormonal teenager. Sirius was his friend, not his secret crush. It wouldn't do to feel _tingly_ around him.

They walked through the hallways in complete silence, pressing themselves into walls every now and then to avoid being caught by wandering prefects. Remus liked the night time when they were off paroling, but it had to be said that it was a lot easier with James' invisibility cloak. Of course, it was more fun like this, and though Remus considered himself to be a usual timid person, he thrived on the adrenaline of almost-getting-caught-but-not-just-yet. The tension was amazing, and it was at times like those that he realised most of all that he was a true Marauder, no matter the fact that he was the one usually least willing to break the rules.

Nonetheless, Remus was relieved when they finally reached the secret passageway that would bring them outside of the castle—he had no idea what the other boy was up to, but the chances of them getting caught outside, were definitely smaller than being caught inside the castle—following Sirius into the narrow hallway. They had used the hallway before, and it was rather short, merely made as a breach of the thick castle walls, as it led into the bushes behind the greenhouses.

From there on, it was easier to walk, since they didn't have to constantly worry about being caught. Hagrid's hut was too far away, and in the pitch of the night, no one would see them walking anyway, only the stars guiding them to their destination.

"Sirius," when they reached the Quidditch pitch, Remus couldn't stand not knowing what they were up to—he was just too damn curious, "what're we doing here?"

"Have you ever flown before?" Sirius asked, ignoring the brunette's question, "Outside the mandatory classes in first year I mean?"

Remus shook his head timidly. He could see Sirius' fangs glow in the dark when the boy grinned.

He took his wand from his pockets, and opened the doors to the broom stalls with a muttered spell, the tip of his wand bathing in blue light. The lock released with a clang of metal against metal, and they slipped inside without opening the door all too far, in fear of more noise.

"It would've been easier to get caught if I brought my own," Sirius explained silently, and Remus gave a nod though he was sure the raven hadn't noticed, "Let's see..."

He examined the broomsticks with a close eye, sliding his hands over the wood and ruffling through the branches every now and then. Remus had no idea how you were supposed to know which was a good broom and which wasn't, but he trusted Sirius when it came to that, since the boy was very passionate about flying.

"Alright, this'll do," Sirius eventually settled for a rather long broom, with a thick base, a newer one from the comet family, "come on."

Remus frowned when Sirius didn't pick up a second broom, lingering behind to regard which one he could possibly use, while Sirius left. It was pitch black and he had no idea what broom would be good for him, so he sighed and followed the raven outside. He had no clue what they were planning on doing with a single broomstick though, and not-knowing made him a little anxious.

The broom was already hovering above the ground, the wood gleaming in the starlight. Sirius smirked when he saw Remus' look of doubt, and straddled their chosen means of transportation with a wink, keeping two feet on the ground so he wouldn't tumble off when he slid all the way to the front.

"Come on darlin'," he outstretched his arm, taking Remus' hand in his own, "it's fine."

"Sirius, _no_," his eyes widened when he realised the boy planned for the both of them to ride the broom—the shock of skin-on-skin causing him to panic even more, "I have no clue how to..."

"I know," Sirius said with a grin, "I've seen you in class, you're horrid," this earned him a well-pointed glare, and he squeezed the brunette's hand apologetically, "that's what I'm here for."

Remus' mouth fell open in shock when he suddenly realised the exact extend of Sirius' master plan. For some idiotic reason, the boy was under the impression that Remus was actually going to ride a broom with him. Remus decided then and there that he would never mount the same broom as Sirius, he would never let that boy control where they went and how fast they got there. He had seen the boy on a broomstick and to say that he was mayhem was the least of it. Sirius approached the matter of flying with the same caution he approached all things; none at all. Not in a million years was Remus getting up in the air with his friend.

But for some extremely marginal reason it was so hard to resist when Sirius gave him those puppy dog eyes.

When they steered up into the air, Remus was too busy grabbing at his best friend's hips to realise he had started screaming.

It was all so frighteningly wonderful. His arms were wrapped _oh_-so-tight around Sirius' waist, his thighs squeezing his friend's, just to keep him in place. Remus feared he might lose it any moment, because the view, it was breath-taking. He heard himself gasp as Sirius brought them up higher, circling the castle grounds. Everything was dimmed lights from their position, and tall figures and sparkling stars, and he didn't even remember why he objected to this in the first place.

He knew that the fact that Sirius' hand held his own to his stomach tightly should be concerning him, since it meant the boy was only using one hand to steer them, but he couldn't quite care because it felt _perfect_.

They rocketed up the air with breakneck speed and when Remus' thighs tightened around Sirius' unwillingly, fear gripping his heart, adrenaline pumping, the raven let out a howling laugh. The half-full moon shone down brightly, and the higher they got the bigger it seemed, so close Remus was sure he could almost touch it. Everything was just a blur and with each mile they climbed, the darkness consumed more of them.

Darkness had always frightened Remus.

_Now there is nothing but dark, and with every slap his cousin hopes to find light, every lie bitten off by __every truth until his vision clouds and he is where he was before, completely alone in this pressing, pressing..._

Now, Sirius brought him up so high the dark exploded into a million brilliant colours, sparkling white coming up behind his retina and making him see flashes of violent light. Sirius was so content to be there, with him, his laughter lit up the night sky and made it as bright as the dawn.

_...black hole. And it's pressing harder and he knows that all his nephew wants is the truth, but how does he give what he does not know he possesses?_

Sirius steered them up higher, before making a graceful bow and going back down. Remus could feel the wind tousling his hair violently as they headed back down with an incredible speed, his thighs once more clamping onto Sirius' body unintentionally.

He felt Sirius squeeze into his hand and then, before he even realised what was going on, Sirius let go of the broom with both hands, knees straddling it and steering it into free fall, the blurred lights catching back up with them with excruciating speed.

Remus' initial impulse was to wrap himself tighter around his friend—he ignored how absolute divine it was to be touching him, his head instead going haywire with the realisation that they were probably about to crash—but Sirius cried at the moon, throwing back his head, and it was so carefree Remus just couldn't help but want to follow.

"Come on Remus!" Sirius called, his laughter bouncing off the whipping wind, "Let go! I've got you!"

As prove, he leaned back into Remus—the broom rattling violently in the harsh wind—and wrapped his arm around the brunette's waist, holding him close. His other arm flapped freely in the wind, his posture nothing but absolutely relaxed as he howled like a wolf at the moon.

Remus bit his lip, before making a rash decision he was sure he would regret later.

Sirius made him feel right, this could not be wrong.

_He has been wrong before, but with his cousin, it felt right._

He let go.

He outspread his arms, tightening his knees and thighs as much as he could, and threw his head back. Free-falling was amazing. It felt as if he was floating, the wind rustling around him and the stars above him shimmering happily in approval.

It suddenly didn't matter what had happened in the past. For a split second, every hurt—

—_every slap of skin-on-skin, every sting—_

—was erased from his memory and he was there and they were falling, but at least they were falling together. He hadn't allowed anyone to hold his life in hands like this since...

_...__Remus knows that if he wants to break him, his cousin can in that moment. He can hit and he can kick and he can destroy and no one would turn to look because there are broken mirrors and dead eyes, and he is so ruined no one will come to his rescue now. He knows he should be saying something – anything – and even a lie would be preferred over this, but he cannot. He needs to hold on to the hope that his cousin will come to his senses and..._

...but somehow, with Sirius, it was okay.

It would have been a lie to say that he wasn't afraid. His fears didn't seem to matter, but they were still present in the back of his head, just that the kick of adrenaline was overpowering him and he felt as if he was flying all by himself, arms outspread and face up to the endless night sky. He felt Sirius against his body and he had never loved anyone as much as he loved Sirius then, because...

"_Don't you dare!" his cousin yelled and it hurt, burned, everywhere, "Don't you dare lie to me!"_

...Sirius made him feel whole again.

The ground surged closer to them and suddenly Remus felt a harsh tug. Sirius heaved the broom up with his knees—arm wrapped around Remus—forcing it to an abrupt stop. They kept going though, for almost an entire minute, their speed too much to just stop still straight away like that.

Sirius turned around and flashed him with one of the brightest smiles he'd ever seen, the boy's fangs glowing in the pale starlight. Then they were climbing up again, and Remus knew they were nowhere near done.

He couldn't bring himself to care, either.

By the time they dismounted the broom Remus' hair was sufficiently tangled, his cheeks red with excitement. Sirius was grinning like a maniac, brushing his hair from his face as they returned the broom to its original place before getting up the bleachers. They relaxed, sitting close to each other, and Remus was too damn fazed to care that they were out after curfew. Instead he leaned back next to his friend, watching the stars as he came down from the rush.

Sirius was constantly looking at him, as if to say: '_I knew you'd like it!'_ proud of himself that he'd managed to make his friend smile.

Eventually Sirius turned to him and took his hand, squeezing it gently. He gave a rather flirtatious wink—even though Remus was _sure_ he was just misinterpreting the signs—and purred: "now when I get that bike, I'll take you for a ride and love, I promise it will be even better than this one was."

He gave another squeeze, and Remus felt his cheeks warm. He tried to ignore the sensation, knowing that it was highly inappropriate. It was just that Sirius always managed to make him feel _right_, though he always seemed to say the wrong things.

He ignored his disturbing thoughts and masked them with a smirk, teasing back: "why Mister Black, I do believe you're trying to flirt with me!"

Sirius' smirk turned upright, or so Remus thought. He was never really sure of what Sirius felt and when he felt it, since the boy was a master in disguising his true emotions. Still, Sirius wore the same look he did when he had admitted to stealing James' green Every Flavoured beans, that sort of serious honesty.

"What if I was?" he asked, one eyebrow arched up.

Remus didn't know how it happened or why he had done it. It was crazy and insane and he blamed the adrenaline and the _trust_ and maybe he blamed the sound of Sirius' voice and the way his eyes burned bright. All he knew for sure was that one minute they were fine and the other they were kissing.

He felt Sirius' hand come up to cup his face—his own already forcing Sirius' lips to meet his—but before his friend could do so, effectively locking him in place, he pulled back with a shocked gasp.

He realised he might have been experiencing a small teenage crush but he could not succumb to it. Swallowing thickly he turned his eyes away from the sight of Sirius' lips, red and wet and parted, to look at the stars.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, "I didn't mean to."

He hoped to whatever God that would listen that Sirius did not leave him for this. He could _not_ lose a friend over it.

Sirius' fingers wrapped themselves around the brunette's cheek and he turned Remus' head to face him. Remus blinked in confusion when Sirius pressed his lips against his again, though only briefly this time.

"Don't you lie to me Remus," Sirius whispered, and...

"_Don't you lie to me!" his cousin yelled—smackslapsting—fist to face and face to floor and floor too cold and hurt._

...he fell back in shock, eyes widening beyond compare. He saw Sirius' widen too at his intense reaction, but he didn't care because...

"_Remus, don't you lie to me!" and perhaps Remus should just tell him what he wanted to hear. He was hurt all over and he wanted out, but his mommy had told him to always tell the truth and how could he say 'I love you' when that was the real lie?_

...he couldn't take it and ran, ignoring Sirius' calls for him. He ran and couldn't stop—the last time he ran this hard was when... _no_!—not until he reached the castle and he was forced to. He felt his heart pound in his throat and tears welled up in his eyes. Every time when Remus thought he could let his guard down, every time Sirius made him feel happy and _normal_ he managed to somehow make it all jumbled and broke the moment by just _speaking_.

Why was it that Sirius always knew what to say to drive him mad?

He dove under the safe confines of his blankets without even changing, merely taking off his jeans, and used a spell to lock his curtains securely together. He added a silencing spell, because he didn't want to hear Sirius come in, knowing it would only cause him to panic and stress. James and Peter were asleep in their respective beds, and the last thing he heard was a snore.

Then all went quiet, Allan jumping up from by his feet to waggle over so he could flatter down next to his head. He curled up into a ball and started crying, Allan hopefully licking at his cheek.

_Do you really want me to tell you the truth?_

**AN: the next will be: I've got my eye on you. I suppose there's not much to add here, except that hell, sometimes I really want to be Sirius, or at least the Sirius I write. I would love to fly a broom like I let him ride one.**

**Exams are coming up, and I'm updating as many stories as I can before then. Be glad, this story is one of them!**

**If you want more, you're gonna have to beg for it ! MUHAHAHAH, yay for cliffies !**

**SPECIAL : so ? anyone notice what word I changed ? hehe.**


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